


Attitude

by Hakuryen



Series: First Positions [2]
Category: Mozart l'Opéra Rock - Mozart/Baguian & Guirao
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ballet, Author doesn't like Stephanie's given name and neither does he, Danseur Stephanie, M/M, Mirror Sex, Mutual Masturbation, PWP, Pianist Lorenzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-11 19:49:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19116526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hakuryen/pseuds/Hakuryen
Summary: He put pressure on his hand, silently ordering Stephanie to lift his leg backwards. He did, leaning slightly forwards to regain balance by gripping the barre, holding his leg out behind him at an angle in a perfectattitude,supported by Lorenzo's hand a few inches above his knee. The pose he was now in had his stomach muscles in high definition, and Lorenzo moved his left hand lower again to trace them in admiration. Stephanie couldn't help but stare.Alone in one of the empty company's practice rooms, Stephanie and Lorenzo intend to have the danseur practise one of his roles. It doesn't take them long to get sidetracked.





	Attitude

**Author's Note:**

> The waltz Lorenzo plays at the beginning is "Waltz in A minor" by Chopin.
> 
>  **Terms for this oneshot:  
> **  
>  Attitude -position where the dancer is standing on one leg with the other lifted, usually to the front or back; the leg in the air is bent at the knee so that it forms roughly a 145 degree angle
> 
> Tendu - Gradually extending the working leg to the front, side, or back, passing from flat to demi-pointe to point where only the toes are touching the floor , or only the pointed toes are elevated  
> Dégagé - when a dancer moves their leg off the floor from a position with a pointed foot and straight leg to the front, side or back  
> Dévellopé - movement where the dancer’s working leg is drawn up to the knee of the supporting leg and extended to an open position  
> Battement - alternating side-to-side movement of the working (non-supporting) leg; typically performed in multiples, quickly and in rapid succession so that the working foot appears to be fluttering or vibrating  
> Plié - the dancer bends the knee(s), keeping the heel(s) securely on the ground  
> First position - turned out legs with the feet pointing in opposite directions, heels touching

Stephanie looked a mess.

His hair was drawn back into a lazy ponytail, the pastel tank-top dyed a darker colour by sweat, made only more visible be the triceps stretches he was doing to prepare for his solo-practice. His leggings were probably drenched too, but that thankfully wasn't visible due to their black colour.

The practice room was empty barring him and Lorenzo; they had chosen one Stephanie usually didn't use, yet his boyfriend liked the piano in this one more than the others, so they had migrated there. Lorenzo, too, was warming up. A waltz that sounded vaguely familiar to Stephanie echoed around the room, filling the silence between them as they were both concentrating on their tasks.

Stephanie bent forwards and put his hands around his lower calves – a hamstring stretch. Somewhere behind him, Lorenzo's played a wrong note in what was an otherwise meticulously perfect rendition, and Stephanie grinned.  
He looked through his legs, his suspicion confirmed. The man was obviously ogling his behind, now only half a mind focused on his music.

Satisfied with being right, Stephanie concentrated on his stretches again, noticing how the music grew more stable again. With Lorenzo switching between songs every few bars and Stephanie going through the motions of warming up quickly, they spent a few minutes in silence until he deemed his preparation good enough and moved to the barre. He'd do the proper ballet warm-up, since it was technically his day off and therefore he had had no morning class. A hum, and the music changed again. This time, Lorenzo had his mind settled as to not disturb Stephanie's actual work – it was a light piece, with an easy-to-follow rhythm; he had heard it before, in one of the classes.

Facing the mirror, he started off easy, as usual – with his left hand gripping the barre and the other arm lifted above his head, he bent to the left in a languid stretch, before changing hands and repeating the same thing multiple times – followed by the usual moves. _Tendus_ gliding into _dégagés_ , controlled _dévellopés,_ quick _battements_ , _pliés_ , and everything in between.

"What do you want to practise today?" Lorenzo suddenly spoke up behind him, yet neither of them stumbled in their routine. For a second, Stephanie thought about his answer. Their company usually only did three, maybe four big ballet productions per season. He was the only one out of their usual group of friends who hadn't been cast in Swan Lake, but for that he had been given the main role of _Coppelia_ 's Franz, with Constanze and some maybe-to-be-promoted soloist as the female protagonists, and was the understudy for Benvolio in this year's production of _Romeo and Juliet_.

"I'm thinking maybe Benvolio? Rosenberg is already pushing me through Franz, but he hasn't focused much on my Ben so I should probably put my own work in. What do you think?" He turned around, his left hand gripping onto the barre, now able to see his boyfriend. His gaze wasn't met, the pianist instead concentrating on the keys, a light scowl gracing his brow line, and Stephanie grinned.

"I think that your Franz is more important and that Rosenberg will probably have your head if you don't put all your energy into it."  
"Yea but what happens if the main dancer for Benvolio gets hurt last-minute and I'm not prepared enough as an understudy." _Demi-plié, plié._

"As much as I don't like the man, Rosenberg has eons of experience backing him up, so if he wants you to focus on Franz first, then that's that. Besides, I don't think I can stand him shouting at you while I'm in the same room without bashing his head in any longer. So you better either improve fast or you have to help me hide his body," Lorenzo said, deadpan.  
Stephanie changed sides, his back to the other man again. "That's mean."

"I'm sorry."

He couldn't keep himself from pouting, not sure if he was disappointed, sad, _whatever,_ at Lorenzo not finding his dancing good, even though he had been practicing the role for literal weeks now. Of course he knew he wasn't perfect yet, and he had learned to take the brunt of blunt criticism ages ago, but it still hurt to hear these kinds of words from his very own _boyfriend_. Sure, he had entered this relationship knowing that Lorenzo could occasionally be the biggest asshole, yet …

Harrumphing, he decided to just focus on his warming-up and, after that, his proper dancing. He went through another set of the usual motions – _tendu, dégagé,_ change side – before turning around to face the mirror, now putting both of his hands on the barre.

His toes moved outwards into _first position_ , and he started with his left leg – letting it glide away from his body, toes sliding across the ground up until the moment he lifted it up, fluidly bending it and letting it do a graceful motion in front of his other leg before doing the same movement the other way around, resting his foot against his right knee for a second and then ending with his left leg stretched out far behind him, the toes touching the ground once more. On the other side of the room, Lorenzo's piece came to an end yet he didn't start a new one; Stephanie paid it no heed, letting his feet slide back into their starting position. Even when he could hear steps, he didn't cease in repeating the move with his right leg, figuring that the pianist probably only wanted some water. His eyes were concentrating on observing his own legs in the mirror, careful not to make any mistakes. Lorenzo's legs stopped behind him.

Eyebrow drawn high, Stephanie looked up in the mirror to see what Lorenzo could want.

The man's eyes were dark, roaming over Stephanie's body before finally coming to a rest returning his gaze. Stephanie could see that his own face still looked sulky – Lorenzo must've seen the same whenever he looked at his reflection.

Exhaling, he relaxed his grip around the barre and slid his feet into a more comfortable position, and, once Lorenzo put his hands on Stephanie's hips and laid his chin on his shoulder, he even allowed himself to sink back into his boyfriend's embrace.

"I really am sorry, Dolce. You are the most beautiful and graceful person I've ever seen, and I don't tell you that enough, and for that I am sorry." Like that, Stephanie's sulk-bubble burst, and he even had to giggle when Lorenzo pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Said giggle got promptly choked off when Lorenzo moved his ministrations towards Stephanie's neck instead, which was widely exposed by the low neckline of his tank-top.

" _Lorenzo_ ," he whisper-shouted.

"Hm?" came his rasped reply.  
"We're in a _public space_."

He wasn't graced with a reply, but instead with a gentle bite to a place on his neck that made his hands tighten around the barre again, and his toes curl inside his ballet shoes.

Lorenzo must've noticed that, or how his breath hitched, closing his lips tighter around the spot and taking the skin between his teeth to lick and suck at it arrhythmically. By the time he was done – seconds later, minutes, Stephanie didn't know – a dark hickey had bloomed there and Lorenzo looked at it with satisfaction, letting his right hand wander upwards to stroke his thumb against it.

It hurt, but oh, it was of the kind of good hurt that went both straight south and up into your head at the same time.

"It's a sunday morning. There's no official practices scheduled and it's unlikely that anyone will want to train on their own this early in the day. Besides, this room is rather high up and most dancers won't go that out of their way just to practise alone," Lorenzo eventually said, and it took Stephanie a few too many seconds to figure out that he was only answering to what he had last said.

Before he could try to formulate an answer with the little blood that was left in his brain, his boyfriend threw him off again, guiding the hand that was still on his left hip up, towards Stephanie's stomach and underneath his shirt, lifting it up the higher he went. Inch by inch of ivory skin got revealed, until the pianist's strong hand finally reached Stephanie's collarbones where it came to a rest. Stephanie couldn't help but look at himself through the mirror – he had a good physique, of course, and the room's lighting and sweat coating his skin made that stand out in all the best ways; his chest was heaving, unlikely from exhaustion, much rather from the effects his lover's touches had on him, one of his nipples exposed while the other brushed against Lorenzo's arm. A quiet keen escaped his lips, and Lorenzo took it as his cue to continue.  
"Look at you," he murmured right into his ear, voice husky, and his right hand let go of the hickey to travel down his body, as if to emphasise his words. It halted on his thigh, and Stephanie thought that that was it, maybe, or that it'd go _just slightly to the left_ now, to touch him where he really wanted it. As was often the case with Lorenzo, though, the man totally surprised him by doing the opposite of what Stephanie expected from him. So instead of doing either of these things, he put pressure on his hand, silently ordering Stephanie to lift his leg backwards. He did, leaning slightly forwards to regain balance by gripping the barre, holding his leg out behind him at an angle in a perfect _attitude_ , supported by Lorenzo's hand a few inches above his knee. The pose he was now in had his stomach muscles in high definition, and Lorenzo moved his left hand lower again to trace them in admiration. Stephanie couldn't help but stare.  
"You're a piece of art, Stephanie. I've known you for years, and this is not the first time I get to see you like this, but damn me, I'm stunned every time. Watching you dance is the highest blessing, getting to play with you and hear the lovely tones that you produce the highest pleasure." His hand moved even lower, finally reaching where Stephanie really wanted it.

With how slow it moved, Stephanie should've been prepared for him, but when the touch finally came it still surprised him, knocking him off his feet – quite literally, as his knee quivered, nearly buckling. The only thing that kept him upright was his steel-grip on the barre. He could feel the blood buzzing in his ears, making him feel dizzy, and cried out softly when Lorenzo reapplied pressure. Stephanie didn't even notice that the other man had let go of his right leg – keeping it lifted in _attitude_ even without being held up anymore – and only when Lorenzo gently pushed his thigh down did let go of the pose. Now that he was back on two legs again, he felt more stable, more secure. It came with a small price, Lorenzo pushing his hand even further down, groping him stronger, and he couldn't hold back a strangled moan.

"H-hurts …," he stuttered and immediately, Lorenzo took away the pressure on his cock.  
"Do you want me to stop?" he asked, voice laced with concern.

"No!" Stephanie blurted. "Please, just take off my pants. Please don't stop."  
A growl, and Lorenzo's hands were back on him, now both travelling down his pronounced V and over his crotch to press his legs, which he had been clenching together up to now, apart. He crowded in further against him, pushing Stephanie closer to the mirror which had him lift one hand from the barre and to the glass instead just to catch himself. Deft hands pulled down his leggings, only far enough to reach just below his ass. He was feeling so hot, as if his body was overheating even in the air-conditioned practice room, and the mirror that he let his forehead fall against was of a welcome cool.

"What's that?" Lorenzo asked, pulling on the string of Stephanie's underwear and letting it snap back, causing him to groan in pain-pleasure. "I've never seen you wear this before."  
"It's a dancers belt."

"Danseurs wear thongs?"  
"It's not a-" He got sidetracked; Lorenzo was dragging his dancer's belt down awfully slow, and it scraped over his rock-hard length in just the right way.

"Look at you," Lorenzo repeated, and Stephanie hadn't even realised that he had been screwing up his eyes. With great effort, he opened them a slit wide, and the sight made him moan. Lorenzo still had his chin hooked over his shoulder, looking no less affected than Stephanie, hugging him from behind, one hand on Stephanie's breast and the other directly above his cock. As soon as he saw that Stephanie was looking at it, he properly took his cock in hand.

He sobbed messily.

They looked obscene. Lorenzo with wildness in his gaze, strong hands all over his body – Stephanie, totally debauched, stomach half exposed again, the tip of his erection bordering on purple - and, somehow, him still being mostly dressed made this whole thing feel even more lewd.

Without any further warnings, Lorenzo let his thumb glide over the head of his cock, drawing precum out and smearing it around before trying to spread it downwards as a lubricant. When that wasn't enough, he lifted his hand up to Stephanie's mouth.

At first, his dizzy brain didn't quite know what to do. On reflex, he stuck out his tongue and licked his own fluids off the pianist's hand, his unsteady breaths dancing through the fingers hotly and settling on the pristine surface of the mirror.

"No," Lorenzo chuckled beside him, and distanced his hand a bit farther away. "Spit."

He couldn't even find it in him to feel embarrassed, doing as he was told and quivering as, finally, Lorenzo gave him a few good strokes with the added glide of his spit.  
He couldn't look away. The way his flushed cock protruded from the pale hand before disappearing again, again and again in an unsteady rhythm; how Lorenzo's other hand kept grazing over his nipple without actually applying proper pressure, driving him _crazy;_ how Stephanie's very own hips thrust for- and backwards, grinding against Lorenzo's hard cock with every backwards twitch.

It took only a few strokes for it to become too much, his gasps and moans growing louder with each one, until eventually an embarrassingly loud keening sound left his lips.  
" _Lorenzo_ ," he whined, "Puh-please .."  
He couldn't manage elaborating, but Lorenzo seemed to understand him nevertheless. Abruptly, he let go of Stephanie's dick and pulled out his hand from under his shirt so that he could turn Stephanie around to face him. He didn't give him any time to adjust, instead putting both his hands into Stephanie's hair and laying a downright _filthy_ kiss onto his lips. Stephanie met him with an already open mouth, their tongues swirling around each other without waiting another second, their teeth clacking together in their desperation, lips pressing against each other hard enough to bruise.

It came as a surprise that he was even able to kiss Lorenzo properly, with how shaky he was, and even more so that he managed to get his bearings to let his hands wander towards the pianist's jeans and to open them just enough to be able to guide his cock out of his underwear.

Lorenzo broke off the kiss, leaving their lips wet, hot, and exposed to the air. This time, he freed one of his hands from Stephanie's hair and led it towards his own mouth to spit into it.

As soon as that was done, Lorenzo joined their mouths again to bite at his lips, run his tongue over the seam, kiss him silly; with Stephanie sufficiently distracted, he took both of their cocks into his big hand at once and began stroking them both. From then on, it didn't take long for Stephanie to topple over the edge, his orgasm hitting him hard and mercilessly, a sharp cry, fire pulsing through his veins. He threw his head back so abruptly that he would've had banged it against the mirror painfully if Lorenzo's left hand hadn't still been holding the back of it and caught the brunt of it.

His breaths came in stutters, eyes closed to the bright light, and he could only faintly hear how Lorenzo continued to stroke himself to completion, cumming with a short groan and letting his forehead drop to Stephanie's collarbone.

A few minutes went by with them both catching their breaths, until, eventually, Lorenzo tucked both of their cocks back where they belonged and cleaned them up as well as he could.

Stephanie waited for him to do as he pleased.  
"You're _so lucky_ that nobody walked in on us," he then chided.

"Oh please, as if anyone-" just in that moment, they heard voices.

Struck by horror, they both froze, half embracing as they were, now dressed again but their general appearance still dishevelled and leaving no doubt to what they had just done.

' _Do you already know which scenes you want to concentrate on today?'_ the words now turned clearer. Antonio. And with him probably …

' _Yes!'_ answered Wolfgang. ' _I'd like to do some of the final scene, since I'm not really partnering anyone for most of it'._

They kept talking, voices low but still audible in the empty hallway. Their footsteps grew ever the louder. Neither he nor Lorenzo were breathing, heads turned towards the door and bodies unmoving in their shock. Even if they had left their embrace and returned to their places, their kiss-bruised lips, flushed cheeks, and the hickey on his neck would've still given them away.

The moment came that the footsteps passed by their door and, for just a second, Stephanie could feel his heart drop into his pants – that is, until, instead of stopping in front of their door, the footsteps went by it and slowly faded in volume, as did the volume of the two men talking.

A few more seconds went by in silence. Then, as if prompted by an invisible trigger, the both of them began to giggle uncontrollably.

" _Oh my god_ ," Stephanie wheezed. "I don't think Wolfgang would've minded seeing us like this, he would've probably laughed, but _imagine Antonio's face_."

"I'm glad he hasn't got Rosenberg's stick-arm up his ass anymore to function as his ventriloquist puppet, that would've been the end of it. Although, maybe Wolfgang could sway him; especially if we told him that it was you who set the company president on his trail."  
"Oh, please don't tell him, I wouldn't want him to feel obligated to me or anything."  
Lorenzo snorted. "As if you two aren't practically joined at the hip already."  
"Shush you." He shifted on his feet, only then noticing just how drained he felt, and whined in response. "Thanks to you I don't feel like practicing anymore!"

"Any way I could make it up to you?"

"You can ride me later."  
Lorenzo's reaction to that was a mixture of snort and splutter, but he didn't decline either, so Stephanie counted that as a win. "For now let's get our stuff together and you can buy me some ice cream. I think I saw an ad for this one shop close by having a special offer this week ..."  
  
  
They did just that, and when they turned up in the company the next day and heard Rosenberg rant at some innocent dancers to keep their dirty hands off the mirrors, they gladly turned the other way.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon: Pianist Lorenzo uses cheesy music terms as terms of affection for Stephanie.  
> Salieri to Mozart: "You're the sun to my moon, the stars to my void"  
> Da Ponte to Stephanie: "You're the major to my minor."  
> Mozart and Stephanie: //both snort behind their hands
> 
> Hope you liked it! Reviews and Kudos much appreciated, as always, and see you next time~!


End file.
